A Tragic Vixen
by FlynnStorie
Summary: Their eyes met and he fell in love. Sweeney Todd secretly harbors his affections for Pirelli's ward, Vixie White, even after he saved her from her disasterous position. Will he forget Lucy and move on to this mysterious young woman?
1. Such A Pretty Face

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the break, but I'm back to write more fanfics! Here's my new one, Tragic Vixen, and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the amazing Sweeney Todd franchise. **

Chapter 1

What a Pretty Face

Mrs. Lovett was was quick to grab Sweeney's hand as he reached for his razor. "No love," she whispered to him. His eyes remained fixed on the Beadle. _"I should cut him down now," _he thought, but he knew Mrs. Lovett was right: too many witnesses.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried a small boy who appeared on the stage. "May I have your attention, please!!!" He looked ridiculous as he marched around smacking a drum. Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett exchanged glances of unamusement. The boy tossed them a bottle of _Pirelli's Miracle Elixir. _

"Try it sir," said the poor boy while he rubbed a dollop on the head of a bald audience member.

"Smells like piss," Sweeney whispered.

"Smells like what? Eeew!" Mrs. Lovett exclaimed, tossing the bottle back to him. The boy got a worried look on his face.

"Makes hair grow in an instant! Look!" He removed his cap, revealing long, blonde hair. The audience grew anxious, that is, until Sweeney blurted out, "This is piss and ink!"

"Try Pirelli's miracle elixir," said the boy, "it works just like and elixir ought to!"

"I wouldn't try it if I were you," said Mrs. Lovett to the audience around her.

"You're sure to love it!" said the boy.

"Flies do too," said Mrs. Lovett. The audience broke out into laughter. And that's when Sweeney saw her.

A tall, graceful woman who looked in her late teens strode through the curtain. She had black curls falling down her shoulders. Her skin was porcelain and her eyes were dark, and Sweeney couldn't take his eyes off her for a moment.

Whistles erupted from the crowd. Indeed, she was scantily clad in a black laced dress, short in the front, long in the back, and a low bust line. Black stockings went up thigh-high, laced up the back. She walked gracefully in her heels to the end of the stage where men piled on top of each other to try to get a glimpse up her skirt.

"The next man to buy this elixir," she sang to the audience, "shall be so satisfied!" Numerous women in the crowd scowled as their husbands drooled at the sound of her perfect voice.

"Oy, what does that mean?" Sweeney looked over to the scumbag who yelled at her. "Does that mean we got a chance at bed with you, sweetheart?" Men roared.

The girl shouted back, "A better chance than you'll get if you don't buy the elixir, sir!" The men laughed, but Sweeney was sure he saw a flash of fear in the girl's eyes.

"Mrs. Lovett, do you know her?"

"Who doesn't?" she replied bitterly. "That there is Vixie White, resident pretty-thing."

"What's she doing with Pirelli?"

"No one knows. She's trying to get into show business, a cabaret singer, or something like that. Pirelli said he had a 'stage job' for her and she took it, not knowing what his intentions were."

"How long's she been with him?"

"Couple years."

Vixie showered the men with elixir in response to the roars and the whistles.

"Does he....." Sweeney couldn't bear to say "bed her".

"Not yet," said Mrs, Lovett nonchalantly. "She's mere seventeen."

"And yet, she must do a job like this."

A man had run up on stage and had to be pried off Vixie by Pirelli's supervisors.

At that moment, Pirelli himself appeared through the curtain. Sweeney had to stifle a laugh; the great Italian barber looked more like a corseted blue rooster with a woman's hairdo.

"Someone says my elixir is piss. Who says this?" said Pirelli to the crowd in his cheesy accent. Sweeney wasn't planning on speaking up, until he saw the barber's hand graze Vixie's backside as she walked by.

"I did."

Mrs. Lovett sighed. The audience grew quiet as Sweeney made his way to the stage apron.

"You? Who are you, sir?" asked Pirelli, putting his hands on his hips.

"Todd. Sweeney Todd."

Vixie eyed Sweeney admiringly behind Pirelli.

"And you think my elixir is..."

"Piss and ink." Pirelli said nothing, he just stared Sweeney down. "I bet five pound that I'm a better barber than you are."

Pirelli grinned. "A challenge. Who wants a free shave?!"

The men roared and two made their way to the front to sit before the tow barbers. The boy took the throws off Pirelli's great chair and tossed them to Vixie, who disappeared behind the curtain with them. A supervisor tossed Sweeney an old, plain chair. He passed a razor along his vest.

"Can I steepen the stakes?"

Pirelli eyed him. "What is it that you want, Mr. Todd?"

"If I win, your girl goes free."

The audience gasped.

"Toby!!!"

The boy appeared by Pirelli's side clutching Vixie's arm. She winced as Pirelli spoke, inches from her face, "You're up for a bet."

She opened her eyes and found Sweeney's. They looked so kind to him. Like Lucy's.

Pirelli marched back over to him. "So, it's a deal. Five pound and my little pretty thing."

Sweeney nodded. "And, I think it's acceptable for us to have a judge."

Pirelli nodded.

"I think it only fitting that the Beadle would judge."

The audience was silent as they turned to face the Beadle. "I accept," he said modestly.

"_Excellent,"_ Sweeney thought.

"The one with the quickest, smoothest shave wins," said Beadle.

"Oh, Mr. Todd," said Pirelli as he lathered cream on the man's face beneath him, "if only you really knew anything about barbering and the art within it!"

But Sweeney was already done by the time that Pirelli had finished his sentence.

"Mr. Todd is the winner!" Beadle exclaimed. The audience cheered loudly, but Sweeney kept his eyes on Vixie. Pirelli had her by the arm and she looked frightened, but he couldn't make out what he was saying to her. He then led Vixie to where Sweeney was standing, and the beadle departed.

"Fair is fair Mr. Todd." He thrust Vixie into Sweeney's arms. He felt her trembling as she looked up at him before quickly departing down the stage steps. Sweeney watched her go. "The five pounds?" he reminded Pirelli, neglecting to look at him. The Italian reluctantly dropped the silver into his open hand, but Sweeney didn't care about the money.

He met Mrs. Lovett waiting for him by the lamppost. "Don't get too attached, Mr. T," she said glumly. "She's a wild thing, she is. Can't be tamed. Performers, you know."

He didn't answer.

"Mr. T, you listening?"

"Yes." His eyes had lost her finally.


	2. Finally Free

**Hello everyone! I'm super excited about this new storie and I hope that I can entertain everybody who reads it! :) ~By the way, reviews are immensely appreciated!!!**

Chapter Two: Finally Free

Sweeney admired his reflection in the shining silver of his razor. "Hello there, friend," he muttered.

"Hello to you, too, love."

Sweeney wheeled around, ready to slice a throat, only to find that it was Mrs. Lovett. "Didn't I tell you to knock first?" he said.

"It's only me," said Mrs. Lovett as she took a broom to then dust-ridden floor. He shrugged and swiped the blade with an old rag, despite the fact that it had no prints on it since the last time he polished it. _'Soon,'_ he thought, _'we will drip rubies. Precious rubies, my friends.'_

"Why hasn't Beadle Bamford shown?" Sweeney asked himself. "He said 'in the week'."

"In the week, love?" said Mrs. Lovett. "Why, it's only Tuesday!"

"He should have come by now."

"Slow now, darling," said Mrs. Lovett, strolling over to him to put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. A sharp rap caused both their heads to snap to the door.

It was Vixie.

"What's she doing here?" said Mrs. Lovett. Sweeney went quickly to the door, swinging it open with the loud _creak_ sound.

"Miss White? What brings you to Fleet Street?" he asked.

Her eyes were big and she appeared to have walked very quickly there. "Signor Pirelli," she gasped breathlessly. "I'm so sorry to intrude, sir, but he's been following me since this morning-"

"No, no, you're not intruding. You can stay here as long as you like," said Sweeney, taking her hand and leading her into the spacious loft.

"But Mr. Todd- Oh! Good day, Mrs. Lovett!"

Mrs. Lovett snapped her head the other way, arms crossed, and muttered a "G'day," to the door, which she then exited.

"Don't mind her," said Sweeney. "She's a little sensitive."

Vixie gave a small half-smile.

She gazed around the open space, seeming to be at a loss for words. Sweeney noticed that she was still wearing the dress she was wearing on Saturday; the black one with lacy bell sleeves that was short enough to show her black laced stockings running up her slim legs. Part of him felt guilty, not only about feeling desire for someone so young, but for also for, in a way, deserting Lucy, even though she had been dead for nearly thirteen years. The other part of him knew that she was no longer walking the earth and that she would want him to end up happy, even though he was far from that. For the first time in a long while, he started to feel affection and care for a woman again. _What would Lucy have me do?_

"So, Mr. Todd, have you been in London long?"

His trance broke suddenly. "I'm sorry?"

"London, Mr. Todd. Are you new here?"

He contemplated what he would reveal to her. "New, yes. But I have been a resident previously. I left to sail the world about fifteen years ago."

Vixie smiled, and his heart must have pounded a few times faster than normal.

"That's very fascinating, sir. I never would have guessed!"

She slumped down into the antique chair in the middle of the room, apparently exhausted. The wind whistled past the window as she rested her head on the chair's back, exposing her porcelain neck. Sweeney paced to the window to distract himself, somewhat, from her beauty.

"I've never been out of London, myself," she said, gazing up at the exposed rafters. "Still saving up, I am, to go to Paris one day."

"And what will you do there?" asked Sweeney, turning to her.

"Sing on stage for a million people," she replied nonchalantly.

He couldn't help but smile and laugh a little, but only because she fit the part so well.

She laughed too. "Are you laughing at my dream, Mr. Todd?"

"No, it's just very obvious that you'd be good at it. Performing, I mean."

She sat up to meet his eyes. "How so?"

He wasn't expecting that. "Well....you've got the look for it, you do. And the voice." She said nothing, just smiled at him. "It's just...I heard you at Pirelli's and....it's very nice."

She stood, still grinning at him. "I hope I'm not making you nervous, Mr. Todd."

"What? Oh, no, miss, I...."

Sweeney cut off as Vixie crossed the room to stand by his side to stare out the window.

Vixie being so close did make him rather unnerving, especially the lilac scent that trailed off her filling the air. He took a deep breath, and swallowed, and tried to concentrate on the streets below.

"If I can ask," he said, feeling her pretty eyes on him, "How'd you end up with Pirelli anyway?"

"Said he had a stage job for me, but it wasn't exactly what I bargained for."

Sweeney sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

"It's alright, though. He wasn't terrible. Never tried to rape me, or nothing like that." He flinched so hard next to her that he blushed subtly. She put her hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, sir, he's gone from me now," she said. Sweeney felt himself relax at the soothing sound of her voice. "It's the boy I'm worried about, Toby," she said with a heavy sigh. "I looked after him, you see. He was an orphan and all, so I was rather a guardian to him. I'd take the blows from Pirelli for him and-"

"That's mature of you," said Sweeney, intentionally cutting her off. "And only seventeen? I can hardly believe it."

"Not seventeen," she said. "A lot of people think that, but I'm twenty-two years this Friday."

"Friday the Thirteenth?" said Sweeney. He couldn't help but smile at her. "That's an unlucky number."

"To some," she said whimsically. "It's always been a lucky number for me-"

Mrs. Lovett appeared quickly from the doorway.

"Mr. T!" she exclaimed. "It's the Eyetalian!"

Sweeney whipped around to the window- sure enough, Signor Pirelli and his boy were strolling down Fleet Street towards the pie shop like they hadn't a care in the world.

"Pirelli!" Vixie gasped. "Thank you, sir, but I've brought too much trouble upon you," she rambled as she scampered towards the back exit. "Ma'am, your kindness-"

"No," said Sweeney. He sounded hard and cold. _Not again._ "Pirelli's not going to take you back with him. Where would you go if you didn't stay here?"

"The seaside inn," she whispered. "That's been where I've been stayin, and if it please you, sir, I can get back there if I run."

He caught the girl in his arms to find her shaking. "He won't take you," his whispered to her. "Not while I'm around."

Mrs. Lovett was by Sweeney's side, awaiting orders.

"Keep the boy downstairs," he said. She nodded abruptly and disappeared with a slam of the door.

Sweeney undid the lock and pulled open the door for the Italian. The bell rang a few times, but was silenced by Pirelli's cane. He smiled and removed his towering top hat, stooping under the door frame to get in the shop.

"You must know, sir," said Pirelli, "that I am most humble for your time."

Sweeney said nothing as he put the kettle on.

Pirelli rolled his eyes inconspicuously. "So, how much business have you acquired so far, Mr. Todd?"

His jaw hardened at the way his name was pronounced. "Quite a bit, thanks."

"Really?" said Pirelli. "Just being new to the area, I did not realize that one could come across hairy faces so fast!" He choked out a strange, high giggle.

"I don't realize what's so particularly humourous." Pirelli stopped abruptly at Sweeney's response. "Why are you here?"

Pirelli smirked.

He strutted cockily to the narrow chest near the back door. Sweeney flinched, but fell limp when Pirelli threw his heavy mink cloak on it and did nothing more.

"You don't even recognize me do you?"

Sweeney nearly dropped the pot. He had changed his accent. _He sounds so familiar...._

"Didn't figure you would," said Pirelli. He crossed the room, examining the rafters, the antiqued chair, the chipped paint on the window sill. He then placed himself on a large trunk situated on the side of the barber's mirror against the upwards slant of the rooftop.

"I used to sit right here, everyday, just watchin," said Pirelli. "I always admired a good barber like yourself." He stood, and took another long gaze around the room.

Sweeney had not met his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly. He knew that Pirelli grinned that evil smirk ear to ear at the pleasure of Sweeney being puzzled by his story.

"Danny O'Higgins, if it please you."

Sweeney said nothing, but didn't need Pirelli's explanation to remember his original self. "You know, your assistant, fifteen years ago." The man again paced in close distance of the chest. "But I know you, though," he said, stroking his fur cloak that still lay where he dropped it. "Benjamin Barker."

Sweeney tensed, but remained facing the window near the kettle stove. _He found it out, _he thought. _What could he want with this information? Money? My customers? Maybe the shop altogether. _

Pirelli seemed to have heard Sweeney's worried suspicions.

"I want the girl."

Sweeney turned abruptly to face the corrupt con man. Pirelli flung open the chest cover and and dragged the terrified Vixie to her feet.

_Oh Danny, what have you done._

"So here's the deal, Todd," said Pirelli. His voiced was flavored with maliciousness. Vixie was gripped by her wrists and by Pirelli's forceful arm around her waist. She struggled furiously, but he held fast.

"You have two options: You set the girl free and go back to jail, Benjamin Barker. Or, you could pay a monthly fee, and I keep the girl-" Vixie kicked at Pirelli. He held her wrists more tightly with his right hand and powerfully struck her with his right. At that moment, Sweeney felt the fire and pure hate in him erupt- Pirelli would receive all of his fury.

"And," Pirelli finished, "you can remain Sweeney Todd, the most talented barber of London." Sweeney said nothing; it's as though he were in a trance, the events of his arrest flashing before his eyes. The horror of Lucy at Judge Turpin's masquerade ball flickered in his mind. Now Pirelli was ruining his already ruined life, and that of his loved one. He, and many others, all deserved to die.

Pirelli pressed Vixie up against the wall.  
"I'll take that as a yes!" he said to the motionless Todd. He lifted Vixie's skirt to rape her, her screams mixed with the tea kettle's shrieks echoed furiously in Sweeney's ears. _Not again._

He suddenly raised the boiling tin kettle and swung it menacingly at Pirelli, striking his head. Blood flowed from his forehead and broken nose with every slash. Vixie still cried out for Sweeney's help as she cowered against the wall. After a blow to the temple, Pirelli fell with a thud to the floor, dead. There was silence except for Vixie's heavy and staggered breathing. Sweeney was breathing hard, too. It was easy for him to look upon the man he killed. _Is it supposed to feel this right? _But he asked the same question to himself when he found Vixie collapsed in his arms, silently weeping.


	3. Mother and Trust

**Hello all! Glad to see I'm getting a few more reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter! P.S. Vixie's very mysterious- don't judge her before you know her!**

Chapter 3: Mother and Trust

Her shuddering, silent sobs vibrated on his chest. Sweeney still held Vixie in his arms, stroking her hair and permitting her to stain his vest with her tears. _If I could have saved Lucy...._ The thought entered his mind every few seconds before ricocheting back to the warm feeling of the current lady in his grasp.

He couldn't help but make comparisons between the two women. They were completely opposite people, who wouldn't notice if they'd known the two personally? Lucy, being quiet, shy, and realistic, clashed with the vibrant personality of his Vixie, who always had her head in the clouds, but was shooting for the stars. Vixie laughed enchantingly, and Lucy would flash a pleasing smile. Vixie, the performer, dreamed to travel the world. Sweeney remembered that Lucy, the timid young thing, appreciated the simple, quiet life in London that they shared together. Lucy was a pure, humble masterpiece, and Vixie is the mysterious adventure standing before him.

"Forgive me, sir," she whispered to the floor. Sweeney felt the warmth leave him as the girl left his arms. "Forgive me, I....I mean..."

"It's fine," he replied quietly. "I didn't anticipate his actions..." He trailed off. Vixie still stood before him, gazing at him with her darkened eyes with black tears still formed around her lashes.

Sounds of hurried footsteps echoed throughout the barbershop. Vixie gasped. "They'll see!"

Sweeney immediately stooped and grabbed Pirelli's arms. He drug the con man's corpse to the chest in which Vixie had hid. She was there to fling the heavy door open and he heaved the body into the box without terrible struggle. The footsteps grew faster and louder on the wooden staircase outside. Vixie slammed the chest door and sat herself down on it. Sweeney took a razor from his pocket and began rhythmically sharpening it against the chair's belt.

In burst Toby, windblown and frantic. "Signor!!! Your appointment!!!" The boy looked around until his eyes locked on Vixie.

"Vix, you're alright!" he exclaimed. Toby ran into her awaiting arms. Vixie grinned warmly and laughed as she hugged him.

"I am, and yourself, I see."

Sweeney hadn't interrupted, but he could barely make out Toby whispering in her ear, "Thought I'd never see you again," ever so quietly.

The sight both moved and pained Sweeney. The thought of him hugging Johanna, now a grown girl, flashed across his vision. _She'd look so much like Lucy, she would. Long yellow hair, perfect face, beautiful, pale.....Lucy. _But an slight action brought him back to the attic once more. Pirelli's crushed fingers were peeking out of the chest- and started to move. _He's not dead!_

"So, Toby," he said, folding his razor. He slipped it in his back pocket inconspicuously. "Mrs. Lovett gave you a pie then?" His eyes met Vixie's.

"Yes, sir. She's quite a lady, she is," said Toby. He left Vixie's arms and took a few steps to Sweeney.

"Yes she is." His eyes quickly flickered from hers to the edge of the chest. Her brow wrinkled.

"Look here, young Toby," said Sweeney, pacing. "Your master had to dash off to a quick errand. Why don't you go down and have another pie?"

Toby shook his head. "I better wait for him here. It's be a good beating if he found me still down there."

Sweeney tried the signal again with Vixie. His eyes lingered in hers, quickly flashed to the chest door, then returned to hers.

"How about you go down and tell Mrs. Lovett that I promised you a nice, juicy pie. As many as you like," he said. Toby still looked unsure.

Vixie bent down slowly to eye Pirelli's blood-soaked fingers. She looked quizzically again at Sweeney, who looked at the chest door again. She studied them and let out a loud gasp at their crippled movement. Toby wheeled around. Vixie sat up quickly and smiled at him. _She's a smart one, she is _thought Sweeney.

"Why don't you go down there with me, love," she said sweetly. "I'll get you a right bit of gin, yes?"

"Oh yes!" Toby exclaimed. He turned to Todd and shook his hand furiously. "Thank you, sir!" He scampered out the door. Sweeney watched Vixie's hand as it swept across the boy's back and she turned to him.

"I'll see you again, Mr. Todd?"

He nodded briskly. She gave a teary sort of smile before following Toby downstairs to the pie shop. The crunched fingers squirmed again. Sweeney crept over to the chest, razor in hand. The chest door creaked loudly, revealing the blood-stained face of Pirelli. The man gasped for breath, deep, staggering breaths. He was in misery.

But Sweeney felt no pity. _He was going to rape her! Abuse, possibly impregnate her! Does Pirelli have pity? Does he show mercy? Never, _he thought. _He would never pass off a chance at her. He's just like everyone else! And they all deserve to die!_

He was done deciding. Holding his head back by a great clump of hair, he sliced the man's throat, blood fountaining. It was slow and painful, but he didn't speed up once. _He deserves it, just like everyone else evil in this world!_

After disposing the body back in the chest, Sweeney went to the stairs. He had to tell Nellie about this. As he trudged down them heavily, he being exhausted from the ordeal, he heard two women speaking noisily with one another in the pie shop.

"You can take him and leave," said one.

"I have access to this place, and you can't stop me, ma'am."

"Shame on you, you insolent child! Can't you see he's grieving?"

"Fifteen years is an awful long time for grieving, wouldn't you say?"

"Excuse me?"

Sweeney edged towards the door as he left the stair. Pressed up against the wall of Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, he pressed his ear to hear more of the conversation. It was becoming louder and louder every minute.

"Your old man died sixteen years ago, ma'am, and it was within the year that you had moved on!"

"How dare you?"

"Do not underestimate me, Lovett. I have ways of getting what I want, even if that means competing with a former ally."

"Former ally?!" Mrs. Lovett laughed, "I've never had to deal with the likings of you, Vixie White. You really are a-"

"Mrs. Lovett," said Sweeney loudly as he strode in.

"Mr. T!" she exclaimed.

"My dear," he replied. Mrs. Lovett's heart soared as he waltzed toward her, and dropped as he kissed Vixie's hand instead of hers. "I pray you are better after that dastardly ordeal."

Vixie blushed. "Much, sir. But Toby...." She pointed to Mrs. Lovett's living room where a heap of rags lay soundly on the floor. "'Fraid he's had a bit too much gin, he has." Sweeney smiled at her. She matched. It's like they were the only two in the entire city, but Mrs. Lovett's nagging foot-tapping wrecked the moment of peace.

"Better go check on him," said Vixie. She turned away and walked into the living room, closing the cobwebbed door behind her softly.

"So, what was the Eyetalian trying to get you for?" asked Mrs. Lovett, grinning that her rival was finally out of the scene.

"Blackmail," he said shortly.

"So, what are we gonna do about him?"

Sweeney sat heavily at the booth and sighed. "When it's dark, we'd best go out and bury him somewhere."

"Yea, your right," said Mrs. Lovett. She paced to the great, dusty window, cleaning off a flour-covered rolling pin. "Well, I mean, we could do that. It's not like we've got any other options, right?"

He looked at her, confused.

"No?" she asked. "Just seems like a waste, is all."

"A waste of what?" said Sweeney.

"Just a nice plump frame," she replied.

He understood. Whatever colour that was left of him was lost. His eyes widened. "What?" he whispered.

"You know what I mean," said Mrs. Lovett. "No one would ever have to know. We'd get strangers, people who won't be missed...." she set the rolling pin back on the counter, "and there'll be no evidence against us!" She knew he didn't approve of the idea, and that made her worry.

"Remember Mrs. Mooney's pie shop?"

He nodded.

"Got a ton of business serving pussy cat pies?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded again.

"Well, we'd be doin the world a favour, if you ask me. Business needs a boost, we'd be saving some graves, it's not a bad idea once you think about it!"

"Hmm, I suppose you're right," said Sweeney, a little uneasily.

"Course I am! We'll start baking him up right now......" she trailed off.

"What? What is it?"

She looked to the living room door. "The girl."

He sighed. "Vixie wouldn't tell anyone."

"Oh yea? She could be off to Beadle Bamford by now, with all the time we've wasted."

"I trust her."

The words sent a stinging sensation through her heart. "I don't," she replied bitterly. "But I guess if you've got a thing for her, then I'm good with it."

They listened silently at the door for a moment.

Nothing. Mrs. Lovett gave an unsure glance at Sweeney who shook his head in disagreement. They waited. Still nothing.

"Told you she was gone!" Mrs. Lovett burst open the door and they hurried in. Toby was asleep, but he had been placed on the couch with a moth-eaten blanket on him. He was tucked in, nice and snug, the way a mother would do for her son. Sweeney looked closer at the slumbering of Vixie's pinkish lip colour on his forehead- a kiss. Mrs. Lovett scowled at his reaction: he was smiling. He never smiled around her, showed her any affection. But she still loved him. That's why she deserved him, not the tramp who had him under her spell.

He had found a note lying on Toby's blanket from her.

_Mr. Todd,_

_I appreciate your deed and hospitality. _

_I pray I see you again in the near future, for I am very fond of you and hope that our friendship will not be lost. I'm currently at the Worthorford Inn on Glane Street. I hope we can meet sometime within the week. Don't be afraid to come for me! My hero..._

_Love, _

_Vixie J. White_

The thought was joyous. _Love, Vixie J. White, Love._


	4. Sleeplessness

**Hi! First of all, I'd like to thank my reviewers for their advice and support! Secondly, I'd like to point out that my rating has been changed from K+ to T, not only because of the last chapter's references, but for future references as well. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! **

Chapter Four: Sleeplessness

He sat up abruptly, deep, heaving breaths breaking the room's silence. _Nightmares, why are they created? To torment me? _thought Sweeney. He hardly ever slept until last week, when he curiously began feeling weak at the slightest bit of work. The plan between Mrs. Lovett and himself had only taken off last week as well. She was getting limited amounts of 'new meat' because of his new-found tendency to fall asleep while in the middle of a shave. Sweeney oftentimes had to sit as he was too weary to stand while pampering his customers.

But he found no rest. He lay awake in bed for hours and hours, tormenting himself with thoughts of the past, and thoughts of Vixie. It had been a month, but he couldn't bring himself to see her. Something in him was saying that it wasn't right: Vixie was flawless perfection, charming, destined for glorious things. But he, a lowly barber in depression, secretly killing his customers? He couldn't tell her that, ever! She would think less of him that way. Part of him still desired her friendship.

Yet another part of him wanted to throw it away and pretend it never happened. _She hasn't written back,_ he thought. _If she wants me as much as I want her, then she would have wrote by now, would she not have?_ He made himself sick with confusion and worry. _She does not love me! Why not take a chance on her? What about Lucy! Why do I feel this way? Have I gone insane? I do not love her, it is infatuation! Oh, but I can't get her out of my mind! Why did I go to Pirelli's show that day? Why?!_

He was beginning to have nightmares reflected on Lucy and Vixie during the few hours of sleep he was able to receive. The judge, a distorted entertainer, and the con man, the same ridiculous look but full of malice, were joined together, one half Turpin, one half Pirelli. Pirelli was a puppeteer, dangling a dancing Vixie from his hand. Turpin worked the vaudeville. In his lap, he held a Lucy dummy, commanding every word that exited her mouth. Sweeney was chained, forced to watch as the two women were being controlled and humiliated by the two villains. He could do nothing except cry out in terror as Turpin sliced of the dummy's head and as Pirelli roasted the puppet over an open flame.

Over and over he'd have nightmares like this one. He couldn't sleep before it, knowing he'd experience it, and he couldn't sleep after it, the bits of it still flashing through his mind. Haunting him. Torture.

_Would it be sensible for me to see her? Maybe that's what the nightmare is telling me! Maybe seeing her will....ease my mind? It cannot be that simple. She makes me feel joyous, yes, but there must be another reason for my attraction to her. _He contemplated his reasons, still sitting bolt upright in the trundle bed against the wall. _Nothing?! There is no reason in the world?! She's nothing like Lucy! She has something over me she does. But is that a bad thing? _he asked himself. _Is it truly a curse to fall in love again? _

"Oy, where are you off to?"

Sweeney turned around. Mrs. Lovett stood impatiently in the doorway as he passed, a rolling pin beating her hand.

"A stroll," he said bitterly. "Or can I not take a stroll without your permission?"

"Not, you can't," said Mrs. Lovett. Her tone was hard, but she immediately softened. "I worry about you, Mr. T." She reached out to touch his arm, but he walked away from the offer.

"You don't have to," he said, walking down the cobblestones. "I won't be long," he called, but he didn't bother to face her. And yet, she was still smitten.

The woman at the front desk was grotesque. Greasy hair flung up into a freakish twist, bushy eyebrows, red-faced, and enormous. Grotesque was the only word to describe her. "Yea? What d'you wont?"

"Can you tell Miss Vixie White that she has a visitor?" Sweeney asked, more polite than usual. Of course, he didn't know who could possibly visit in a place like this. Drunks were singing and dancing and puking in the bar down the hall, cigar smoke clustered in great clouds overhead, and whores had more than once tried to grope him in his short time being in the revolting building.

"No, I bloody well cont," said the woman in thick cockney. "You can do it yiself. Rum thirty six, on the left. Ave a nice day!" She grinned at him mockingly, exposing yellow, rotted teeth before giving Sweeney a shove in the right direction.

He knocked twice on the run-down old door. Nothing. Twice, harder. Nothing. He sighed and let his forehead fall slowly to the wall. "Why did I come here?" he whispered. "Expecting that she could ever love me. Foolishness. I'm nothing more than a monster!" Not knowing why, he stayed where he was, feeling his passion for her seeming to radiate through the walls of where he knew she had been at one time or another. The heart beating inside him beat a little faster at the thought of her, just to see her again.

He was so weary that he soon found himself sitting on the moth-eaten carpet of the hallway with his back against the wall. His head was up, giving him a view of the dimly-lit ceiling. He was glad of the poor light; he did not care to see what disgusting things may have happened to that ceiling. _Lucy was love at first sight, _he remembered. _The moment we locked eyes, I knew I loved her. Can that not happen again? _As usual, part of him said yes, and the other disagreed. _Why is it always heart versus reason? Why? _He conked his head against the wall a few times._ Well, I've decided. Even if it is mere infatuation, I am alone now, I must accept that._ He sighed, closing his eyes, forbidding himself to think about his lost family._ And when I get Johanna back, what'll I do? She needs a mother...._He shrugged his shoulders._ Vixie is worth taking a chance on, even if it doesn't work out the way I hope it- _

"Mr. Todd?" asked an enchanting voice.

Sweeney's eyes snapped open. "Vixie?" He was most certainly dreaming- he only saw the dusky ceiling.

"Yes, I'm here, sir."

His neck was sore, but he brought himself to look down the smoky hall toward the lighted lobby. There stood the gorgeous girl in a newer black dress, the square neckline surrounded by shiny black curls. Her eyes, still painted, as always, stood out fantastically against her flawless porcelain face. The smoke from the cigarettes surrounded her, looking ethereal in a way- and she was the angel.

"I am dreaming," said Sweeney, blinking hard.

She laughed and approached him. "Oh, sir," she said, smiling. She helped him stand. "It's so wonderful to see you!" She embraced him tightly, but instead of collapsing, he gained new strength.

"Oh, no, not me," he said, pulling away to gaze at her face. "It's you that's the wonderful one."

She never stopped smiling.

"I knocked, but I suppose you weren't....." he started.

"I was performing, in the bar," she explained, pointing back to the lobby area of the inn. "That's how I've made my way to stay here."

Sweeney smiled. "Singing in bars? Not to worry, you'll be singing in Paris soon."

Vixie gave a weakened smile. "I'm glad you came, though. I know this isn't exactly the warmest of places...." The two only noticed now that they were still holding each other's arms. They dropped them abruptly. Vixie blushed. "There's a tea place on Thatcher's Ave, about three blacks over," she said rather nervously. "Its..it's a nice place to talk...nicer than here, I mean, if you'd want to go-"

"Yes. I'd love to," said Sweeney. "It's on me."


	5. Quiet Complications

**Hi! Um, not much to say except sorry for the EXTREMELY LONG BREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It won't happen again! Yeah, the storie was kinda dragging so I took a vacation from it and I accidentally forgot about it! Thanks to mireillesbees for reminding me that I'm a dumbass and still have a fanfic going on!!!! Well, thanks for sticking with me after all this time. Here's a new chapter for you!!!!**

Chapter 5: Quiet Complications

Tea on Sundays, a beautiful face, and loving embraces with long talks about nothing on the side. Sweeney was happier than he had ever been – some may even call it joyful. All this goodness everyday for near a month, and he felt no need for revenge. He had forgotten about Lucy. And Johanna. Turpin, Beedle, Lovett, they didn't matter. All he cared about was his darling Vixie, who had taken to staying with him and Mrs. Lovett nearly all nights out of the week. And every night she spent there, he'd sneak quietly down the frosty stairs and watch her sleeping contently on Nellie's loveseat. He would never stay long, though. Good night's rests were coming more and more easily to him, now that Vixie was there; she always put a sense of calm back into him. Because of those good sleeps, he would take to waking up early in the morning to clean up the shops and to take in new customers. Plenty of new customers – he had a special surprise for Vixie.

"You've been awfully busy, haven't you?" she said, smiling. She ran a broom across the barber's floor, sweeping up the stray strands of honey blonde.

Sweeney nodded and bid his customer 'good'ay' as the young man strode proudly out the door. "Exceptionally busy," he replied.

"Hmm, okay," she said.

"What?" He ran a hand across the head of his beloved chair, sending the hairs fluttering to the floor.

"Nothing." Her voice was sweeter than honey bread and he knew it all too well. _Speak again, won't you?_

She brought the dust pan to the window and scattered the hair being picked up by the breeze. "You think you're so inconspicuous, don't you, darling?"

Sweeney said nothing. He loved to make her guess.

"Taking on double the customers and still sending Lovie the same amount of meat. Which isn't a bad thing." She strode over to him to put her arms around his neck. "Why do you need the extra money?"

"Money?" he asked innocently. "What could you be referring to?"

She nestled herself closer to him. His arms found themselves on her waist. "Making less of a kill means making more of the money." She looked up at him, her dark eyes all big and sweet – it made him melt. Her natural pout told him that something was troubling her. "Are you planning on leaving?"

Sweeney sighed. He left her grasp and turned his back on her. "I thought you would ask that." His tone was cold and serious. Leaning against his mirror stand, he ran a finger across one of his knives. "You see, my dear, I have been making a bit more money nowadays." He removed his hand and opened a drawer; she was surprised to see him wheel around to face her suddenly.

"Yes," she whispered. "And?"

He sighed again, his hands held behind his back. "And...I am planning on leaving London."

Vixie's breathing got soft and she looked down at her hands. After a long while, a small "Oh" left her mouth. When she finally looked up again, she saw two paper tickets in his grasp.

"With you, Vixie." Mouth opened, she said nothing. "To Paris," he confirmed, grinning. She gasped and ran into his arms and hugged him hard and he pulled her to him and they morphed together perfectly and Sweeney felt her breathing and laughing against him and she _kissed him._

And kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him. And it was the first time in over fifteen years that he had been kissed. Her soft mouth molded into his firm one, and nothing distracted him from her, his love. _'You can love again.'_

Even the door slamming didn't stop their passion, not even the heavy steps going hurriedly down the stairs, not even the faint, depressed weeping. There was only her and only him, and the rest of the world did not exist.

They broke apart, and there was rapping on the door. The couple shot a glance to identify the customer. Vixie met Sweeney's eyes, nodded, then rushed swiftly out the back way a split second before Judge Turpin strode into the shop. Sweeney's heart could soar no more- this was his time.

"Mr. Todd?" The man looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with the exact same face, save for silvery hair in place of the chestnut he sported fifteen years ago, and gray and white stubble spotting his chin.

"At your service." _'I must control myself- I can hear my own heartbeat, faster, faster...deep breaths...revenge....'_

"I'd just like a shave, if you please," said Turpin.

"Of course!" Sweeney fanned out a small cape flamboyantly. "Sit! Please, sir," he said, spinning his chair around to face the man he hated most. Turpin grinned maliciously, though unaware of it, and handed his coat and neck tie to the barber. He fell gracefully into the chair and had the handkerchief tied around his neck.

_'I could kill him now,' _Sweeney thought. _'A swift pull and we'd see blue in his face...I did it before...'_ He immediately put the torturous death scheme from his head. _'No, what am I thinking? A quick cut and it'll be over- I'm not supposed to enjoy this. What would Vixie think of me if I did?' _

Sweeney was facing his mirror again, deciding on a knife. He glanced up to see the back of Turpin's balding head and all the anger and fury returned. _'I could stab him in that head. A crack of the skull, that'd be slow...' _He quickly got that from his mind. _'No, this is it. No more killings, no more cannibal pies, no more drabby, shabby London- just me, Vixie, and Paris in our backyard. This is it, friend,' _he thought as the knife caught the light. _'This is it.'_

He turned to find Turpin muttering something about sailors and criminals and hearings.

"Yes, sir, that is most interesting," he said. A shallow cream puddle in a pine bowl was whipping quickly. Each scrape of the bottom made such a sound that Sweeney's heart beat faster and faster – each scrape was closer to Turpin's death. He'd be free.

"Quickly now, and you'll be rewarded," said Turpin.

Sweeney scowled. "Of course, my lord." He smeared the white across Turpin's face messily. "So, just a shave today, sir? No skin massage? How about a splash of bay rum?"

"No," Turpin said, sharply. "I must get back quickly. I'm proposing tonight!"

Sweeney felt Turpin smile as he stroked the blade across a section of prickly stubble. His grip on his knife tightened, so much that his knuckle cracked loudly. Turpin's eyes flew open. "All well Mr. Todd?"

Sweeney grimaced. "Oh yes, sir, yes. So, this lady of yours. Is she exceptionally beautiful?"

"The most beautiful. Large, green eyes, and golden hair that framed her heart shaped face. She is, in a word, perfect! So pretty...."

"Pretty like her mother?" He cringed. _'I didn't mean to say that out loud.'_

"What? What did you say, Todd?"

Sweeney was relieved that he had mumbled his confession. "Nothing, sir, nothing at all."

This was it. He lowered his gleaming, smiling knife to the side of Turpin's throat and made ready to slash and hold the body when it would start to jerk. He was prepared, and completely ready...

And it was ruined.


	6. Keeping Pace

**Hi everyone! Sorry it took so long to update...again...:) I finally got enough inspiration today to do up another chapter. Enjoy! **

Chapter 6: Keeping Pace

Sweeney didn't remember much when he awoke. His knees were red and scarred and his elbows black and blue. He tried to sit up, and winced at the pain his weight put on his knife hand. It was carefully bandaged and sent waves of hurt through his entire arm when he flexed it. Exasperated, he fell back onto his pillows, discovering then that his head was sore, too. _'What went on yesterday? I remember there was a customer, and Vixie and....'_ He felt a heat rush through him thinking of Vixie's thank-you. _'And.....Turpin.'_ Heat of passion turned to rapid heat of rage. The idiot sailor Anthony had barged into Sweeney's shop to tell him that he was planning to steal Johanna away from the judge that very night. As he had expected, Turpin stormed out angrily, swearing to never return. In his anger, he recalled that he had nearly thrown Anthony from the window- then he remembered nothing more.

"Mr. Todd, sir!"

Sweeney glanced up to see Toby smiling in the doorway. He grimaced. "Hello, boy."

Toby came to his side obediently, setting down a glass of water on the coffee table next to the loveseat. "It's good to see you lookin' so well, sir," he said. Every overjoyed word increased Sweeney's annoyance, but he soon figured that if Toby was there, Vixie was not far from him.

"You scared us all," said Toby. He held his beanie in his hands fervently with a ridiculous grin on his soot-covered face. "We didn't know what happened to you."

Sweeney sipped his water. "I had a bit of a rough day yesterday, son. I've been feeling a little under the weather for a while now. It was only a matter of time..."

Toby nodded and rushed out of the room. "MUM!!!! HE'S AWAKE!!!!"

Sweeney flinched at the resonating holler, only to find that his head started pounding again without remorse.

Mrs. Lovett appeared at the door, looking shocked and ecstatic. "Mr. T!" she exclaimed. She bustled over to him and bent over to plant a hard, wet kiss on his forehead. "You had us so worried, love!"

"I'm fine, thank you," he said, not unkindly. "Please, Mrs. Lovett, what happened last night?"

"I'm afraid you had yourself some sort of a breakdown, dear," she said, fiddling with her rolling pin. "The sailor came runnin' down the stairs faster than I could make out, so I went up to make sure everythin' was alright, you see. There had been shoutin' up there, from the Judge, I'm tellin' meself, and I went up there to see you slashin' that blade of yours around like a madman!" As she recounted the events of last evening, Mrs. Lovett waved her arms around and was bobbing up and down animatedly. Sweeney grinned as she looked like an over-sized bird trying to take flight.

"And then you went to the floor!" Mrs. Lovett herself went to the floor on her knees, raised her arms into the air and shouted loudly.

_'__What a fool I made of myself! I pray Vixie wasn't there to see that...' _he thought.

"And then you fainted!" Mrs. Lovett fell to the floor with a soft _thump_.

Sweeney laughed at her. "Really, ma'am, did I really? Oh gracious!"

Down on the floor, she was laughing too. "Yes, sir, yes! Oh goodness, I couldn't get you to wake, either! I was slappin' that face of yours til your cheeks turned scarlet, and you still wouldn't come out of it!" She patted his face and they both roared with laughter.

"Mrs. Lovett."

She stopped her laughter immediately and sat up. Sweeney quieted and saw Vixie in the doorway. She didn't look pleased; her hands were on her waist, made tiny by the numerous black ribbons hugging around her middle against a knee-length black dress adorned with lace and ties. As always, his eyes traveled up her slim legs, from her black heeled shoes to her laced fishnets. He could never help himself.

"Do you really think this is the time to be horsing around, Mrs. Lovett?" she asked. Even in disappointment, Vixie's voluptuous voice wrapped itself around Sweeney's conscious and kept all corners of his attention purely and devotedly focused on her.

Nellie's eyes narrowed. "Not at all, Miss White."

Sweeney was taken aback at how timid and small her voice sounded just then. He knew all too well of the jealousy Mrs. Lovett harbored for his beautiful, young companion. Late in the night, if he listened closely enough, he could hear them loudly arguing with each other, though not loudly enough to make out exactly what they were saying. But he did notice the spiteful glances they gave each time they made eye contact. However, not it appeared as if Mrs. Lovett was backing down. He noticed her looking down at her hands. Shifting his gaze to Vixie, he saw that she had defeated poor Nellie and was giving her a hard, angry stare.

"Good," she said, softly. "Aren't there pies that need to be baked?"

Mrs. Lovett got up slowly, smoothed down her apron slowly, crossed the room slowly, and sped past Vixie so fast that Sweeney didn't see her leave, but he could hear the rapid clicks of her shoes' heels cross the marble floor, and the quick opening and closing of the door to the cellar. He also took note of Vixie's dark eyes following her every move, even after she had left the room. It was the first time that he had seen them so menacing. Menacing and foreboding.

Then she turned her eyes to him. They immediately softened and became the bright pools full of excitement and wonder that he had fallen in love with.

"Darling!" She smiled and rushed to his side, kneeling down and stroking his hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now that you're here," he said, smiling back at her. _'Pathetic. What a pathetic thing to say.'_

She kissed his forehead softly and sweetly. "That's good. You need to feel better – it's a week til our ship leaves for Paris!"

Sweeney cringed, hoping it was small enough as to not capture her attention. _'Damn it all, I didn't tell Nellie. I hope she's not too upset with me...her friendship has meant more to me than I care to display openly...'_

Vixie pouted. "What's wrong, dear? Aren't you excited?"

"Impeccably." He cupped her face in his bandaged hand. "I just hope Lovett doesn't take it too hard."

"She didn't," said Vixie.

Sweeney pulled his hand away lightly. "You told her?"

"Last night." She twirled a lock of her raven hair around her finger. "She took it very well, if you asked me. Said she would miss you and write to you, whatever else she was droning on about, and left it at that. Isn't that wonderful?"

Sweeney nodded. "Absolutely."

"The best part is that she told me she would take care of Toby for me while we're away, so it can be just us." She whispered the last part to him seductively, and kissed him, more quickly than he would have preferred.

She stood, leaving his uninjured hand grasping hers to fall, but he didn't think of it. "Oh, by the way, darling," she said as she took his water glass to refill it, "I sent a pigeon to Paris just his morning to my friend Jacques de Grus, who's the owner of a new opera house that opened just six months ago." She was shouting the story to Sweeney from a series of opened doors leading outside to the water pump. Even when shouting, he couldn't resist her voice.

"Yes, so he said to me – and this is a while ago, mind you – that he can guarantee me the lead in his next production for whenever I happen to arrive! So I sent him a letter just his morning telling him that we are to arrive there in a week's time, requesting the finest in a living location that he promised to finance entirely on his own! We'll owe him nothing!"

"That's marvelous!" Sweeney hollered back to her.

"Yes, so I'm guaranteed work for the rest of my life, singing for millions of people," she said as she reentered. She handed him his glass with another swift kiss. "And the best part of it is is that you won't have to work ever again!"

Sweeney frowned.

"Unless you want to," she corrected herself, taking his hand.

"That's good. I had hoped to become a Parisian barber who doesn't kill his customers!"

Vixie laughed musically. "Yes, of course darling! But it's just this: we're set for life!"

He sat up to embrace her fully, feeling her deep breaths on his shoulder. "That's it, Vixie," he said softly.

"What's it?" she whispered into his skin.

"For life."

She pulled away to look into his eyes.

Sweeney shrugged. "Marry me."


	7. Chain Reaction

**Hello all! I'm having so much fun writing this and I'm so glad you enjoy it! Thanks to my reviewers, you're awesome! :) Here's chapter 7; sorry for the wait! Enjoy! **

Chapter 7: Chain Reaction

When the ecstatic couple told Mrs. Lovett of their plans to wed, her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes got huge and round and sad and her breathing was heavy. She immediately turned around and fled to the comfort of her bedroom, where Sweeney heard her wails and sobs all night. Vixie didn't appear to take much sympathy on Nellie, but he assumed that she was so excited about their engagement that all other thoughts and emotions had left her mind. As soon as he had slipped the ring on her finger a few days afterward, the wedding was all she would talk about. She would gab on and on about Paris and "an out-of-doors wedding in some magnificent garden somewhere" and "lilies and roses as far as the eye can see" and "doves! Doves must be released as soon as we say 'I do', shouldn't they, darling?"

Sweeney would only nod and smile, not really taking anything she said into account. He would just watch her mouth move seductively when she talked and would interrupt her to plant a passionate kiss on her lips, and watch her keep chattering away. It didn't matter anyway; all the ridiculous things that Vixie wanted would be payed for in full by that nice Jacques character, so he let her plan in any way she wanted to. As she went on and on in excitement, she had already started packing both his and her belongings for the rapidly approaching trip across the channel. He wished that he could talk to Nellie about all this and attempt to calm her nerves, but every time she would ever catch a glimpse of him while she was downstairs working on her pies, she would burst into tears and not be seen for the rest of the day.

"It's only her getting old, darling," Vixie said in response to Nellie's bizarre behavior. "Her nerves kick in when she realizes she can't make anymore; it's a woman's natural response to becoming an old shrew, dear. You understand now, don't you?"

"I suppose," said Sweeney, not completely convinced, but eager to agree with his temptress.

It was a sunny afternoon when Anthony arrived again. Most of the attic was barren because the move to Paris was the next day, but Sweeney still had customers. He waved to the young man leaving the shop with freshly trimmed hair, and swept the strays from his chair. Vixie was bustling around busily, dusting the walls and carrying around a bar stool to get to the spots on the ceiling where the cobwebs hung.

"We need it as tidy as possible, darling, if Lovie can get anyone to rent this place out. I hope, for her sake, she can. Times as hard as these; I pray she doesn't turn into an old spinster before her time," Vixie said.

"She's still got the pie shop," said Sweeney.

"But will it last?" She turned to look at him. "Without your...doings, she's bound to end up in the same situation she was in before you came along to save the day. Business has been down since our engagement – she won't last long without you here to assist her."

"Well, it's good that no one ever found out about it, right?" He went to her and scooped her up in his arms to spin her around and make her laugh, loudly and musically.

At that moment, a flustered Anthony burst through the door, making the bell above ring furiously. "Mr. Todd, sir!"

Sweeney immediately placed Vixie on her feet and led her out the back door. "Must you always burst in like a madman, sailor?" he asked coldly as Vixie shut the door behind her.

"I've found her!" Anthony explained. "Turpin's got Johanna locked up in a madhouse- Fogg's Asylum! I went looking for her, I heard her singing-"

"Good, boy. I have a plan," said Sweeney. "Go to Ms. Plumberry and say that you are an amateur wig maker's apprentice. She'll send you along to the asylum – say you are looking for blonde hair and the goat will lead you straight to Johanna."

"That's an awfully good plan, Mr. Todd," Anthony stammered. "When I steal her, I will need a place for her to be when I call for a carriage. Can I keep her here?"

"Of course, dear boy," said Sweeney. He put his hand on Anthony's shoulder to lead him out the door. "You can keep her here as long as you like- need, I mean. Be sure she's here by eight o'clock – I'll be here by then, just in case the Judge suspects anything."

Anthony turned to face him. Sweeney cringed at the joyous expression on the boy's face; it was so happy it looked like he was about to explode. "Oh, thank you Mr. Todd, sir!" He crushed himself against Sweeney in a forceful embrace, then spun around and sprinted out the door and down the stairs.

"_The Judge," _Sweeney had thought the moment Anthony revealed his discovery. _"I'll write the Judge Turnip, tell him the sailor has taken her hostage here, and have him running into my shop – or, into my knife, rather." _His blood began to boil, and his disturbing, guttural laugh choked out of him – he was turning mad again. _"And the moment his last breath is taken, Johanna will arrive, and I'll steal her and Vixie away to the harbor, and I'll get my happily-ever-after – and my revenge. I'll finally get it. My time is now!"_

He quickly scratched a note to the Judge, explaining how the sailor was to arrive with his ward to the shop at seven o'clock, and to not be late. Sweeney contemplated whether or not to tell Vixie of his plans, but he fetched her from downstairs to explain what was to take place, and what he would need her to do.

"I can't deliver to the Judge!" she cried out. "Please, darling, don't have me leave your side!" She sobbed dramatically into his chest, clinging against him.

"Alright, my dearest, I'm sorry. We'll have the boy send the letter."

She looked up at him, no tears in sight. "Alright, that sounds much more logical. You might need me for something else later. Disposal of the body? Whatever you need, my love, just as long as you don't leave me by myself."

Sweeney grinned. "Of course not, Vixie." He searched the packed trunks for an envelope. "You know, dear, I bet you would make a fine actress, if your voice wasn't so pure."

She rubbed his shoulders. "I know. I can't wait for you to hear me, for the very first time."

"Why haven't you before?"

"I want it to be special – on a stage, to an audience. That's when I would sound best, when the acoustics are right."

He shrugged. "I trust you completely. What would a barber know about acoustics?"

They laughed, sharing a pleasant moment before Sweeney hollered down to the pie shop for Toby.

"Here, boy." He tossed the packaged letter to Toby's opened hands. "Take this to the courthouse. Do you know where that is?"

Toby nodded. "But sir, do you mind if I make a quick stop on the way? Mrs. Lovett mum us out of barley flour-"

"NO."

Toby jumped. He had never heard his beloved Vixie so forcefully demand something.

Her eyes, and her voice, softened quickly. "No, sweetheart, You must go as speedily as you can to the courthouse and come straight back, for me." She ruffled up his hair and he smiled at her forgivingly.

"Yes, and deliver the letter to Judge Turpin," said Sweeney. "You mustn't read it – you or anybody else, is that clear?"

"Go straight to the courthouse, give it to Turpin, keep it secret, come straight back?"

"That's it, dearest," Vixie said sweetly. "It would mean a great deal to me. And to Mr. Todd as well."

Toby's eyes lit up. "Alright Miss, I'll gladly take it for you!" He ran down the stairs as quickly as he could without slipping, and was seen bolting down the cobblestones from Sweeney's window.

Vixie chuckled. "Poor boy. He'll wake up tomorrow to find that I've gone." She paused.

"I'll miss him."

Later that evening, Vixie and Sweeney left the loft arm and arm. At the bottom of the stairs, he swept he into his arms for a private kiss, only to be abruptly greeted by Beadle Bamford, who loudly slammed the door to the pie shop as quickly as he had sneaked in. Vixie shrieked as she spun around, and she and Sweeney separated before the Beadle had a moment to notice their hold.

"Why, Mr. Beadle, sir," Vixie gasped. She curtsied slightly. "I'm sorry, sir, but you gave me a terrible fright!"

The Beadle watched as she caught her breath, gazing intently at her heaving chest moving above her bodice, before remembering himself. "Not at all was it an intention of mine, Madam...."

"White," she replied.

He kissed her hand rather longingly, then realized that Mr. Todd was standing at a safe distance away. "Mr. Todd, always a pleasure." He inclined his head.

Sweeney did the same, respectfully. "The same, Mr. Beadle Bamford." He shot a look at Vixie, and she understood his message.

"So, Mr. Beadle, sir, to what can we owe this unexpected surprise," she said in her seductive, honey-wrapped voice.

The Beadle stared at her hand on his shoulder. "Well, Madam White, there have been complaints-"

"Complaints? Of what sort?" she asked. Sweeney was pleased to see her pouting interestedly at the repulsive man. He had found a clever, witty woman, that was for sure.

"Ugh, well, from the chimney, Madam," the Beadle stammered. "Reports say that it smells most foul once the sun has set."

Vixie shot a nervous glance at Sweeney for answers. "It...must be the coal, sir," she lied. "It's second hand. We're just making the switch to the expensive stuff now, you see, as the pie shop has recently been acclaimed by many."

The Beadle was breathing heavily, nerved by how close Vixie, and her bosoms, were to him, and how sensual she looked and smelled. "Well, that may be, Madam, but I fear I will still need a look at that chimney-"

"Yes, right away, sir, but first...would you like a shave?" Sweeney gave his best false grin to the man. "How about a splash of bay rum?"

Bamford looked at Vixie, who nodded excitedly, before agreeing to it. He marched heavily up the stairs to the shop.

"I'll be there shortly, sir," Sweeney called after him. The two heard the door shut, and Sweeney held Vixie by her shoulders. "Well, this IS an unexpected surprise, isn't it?"

"Oh darling, you will be careful, won't you?"

"I always am, my love. But this proves to have entered our plan at exactly the wrong time. Do you trust me?"

Vixie's eyes widened. "Yes," she whispered.

"Promise me you'll take your trunk and the tickets and go to the harbor. Take the money in case of an emergency."

Vixie shook her head, a single tear falling down her porcelain cheek. Sweeney quickly wiped it away before it could fall any further. "Leave my ticket with the boat master and get on the ship without me. If I don't make it in time-"

"Please don't say that," she sobbed.

Sweeney wrinkled his brow and shook his head, hating to make her feel as miserable as she did at this moment, but he couldn't have her be in danger, or worry about her when smuggling Johanna out of the country, as he couldn't afford another ticket for his daughter to accompany them to Paris. "If I don't make it in time, take the ship and I'll exchange my tickets for the next ship."

Vixie shook her head, her curls brushing over her white shoulders. More tears followed.

"Johanna and I will meet you in Paris, my dearest, I promise. But you must promise me first. Can you do this?" he asked.

Vixie said nothing, but took a deep, shuddering breath in attempts to calm herself.

"Promise me."

She shook her head.

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Promise me," he whispered forcefully.

She looked at him, her black eyes all big and sad, and nodded her head solemnly.

"I'll meet you there," he said into her hair as he pulled her to him.

"I'll wait for you," she whispered back.

He pulled her away from him and kissed her, for what seemed like the last time, but he knew he would never let that happen. They came apart.

"Go."

And she went, leaving Sweeney to walk up the stairs for what seemed like hours to go and make the final murders he would ever commit.

**a/n: Wow! That was a nice long one – with so much foreshadowing I can't even tell you! So, what do you think this chick will do next? Leave me a review to tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!**

**~Flynn**


	8. Secrets Revealed

**Hey readers, this is the final chapter of _A Tragic Vixen, _and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Thanks to my reviewers: this chapter is dedicated to you guys, especially Midna- I know you'll hate it, but your reviews are so lol that I couldn't resist (p.s. I'm secretly a Sweenett fan too, I just wanted to have some fun with a bad OC!) Enjoy!**

Chapter 8: Secrets Revealed

Jack wrapped his arm around Vixie's waist as they looked at the open ocean from the bow of the ship. Next stop: Paris, where Vixie would be a top-of-the-line escort for young men looking to have a good time, that is, when Jacques was through with her. But she liked the attention; she was born to be a prostitute, especially since she had no other particular talents, besides seducing and fooling men, much like she did to her past lover, Sweeney Todd. Or an actress, just like he had said. She was so talented at lying that she would have made a fine actress, if her standards for making money weren't so degrading and low.

Vixie White had left Sweeney to take care of the Beadle and Turpin that night, after a very convincing confirming of "true love." Or so he thought. She took her trunk, the tickets, and the money, just like he had said, so she did fulfill his wish for her. Using some of the money for a carriage, Vixie hurried to the harbor, where her secret lover, Jack Gruffin, or as she had confessed about him, "Jacques de Grus", was waiting for her. She broke her promise to Sweeney and used the tickets for her and her employer to voyage to France. She didn't wait for him, and expected him to arrive at the harbor alone and heartbroken, not to mention penniless.

"Sure, there were many times when I could have been caught," said Vixie, telling Jack the tale, "but the fool was so infatuated that he didn't even realize. I could have murdered that old bat Lovett right under his nose and he wouldn't have noticed a damn thing! He still would have given me this." She flashed her engagement ring to him. It sparkled by the light of the nearby sunset.

"That'll earn a pretty penny, won't it?"

Vixie sighed contently. "I'm sure it will, sir. I intend to sell the wretched thing as soon as we get off this damned boat."

Jack laughed at her. "I'm impressed, sweethot. You were able to get a man to love you without even fallin in love with him! You passed the test." He stroked her chin, making her look up at him. She couldn't help but feel a little uncertain about this man, but she had to be employed by him – he own the most prestigious of whorehouses in Paris – as far as whorehouses go anyway.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Wretched old fool." Jack didn't notice that her voice had the slightest tremble to it when she breathed it into the air. He didn't notice anything, except that the sun was setting and the sky was darkening. He picked up his latest prize and took her down below to have his way with her.

Two weeks later, Vixie had taken a carriage ride back to the harbor, receiving notice that she had a letter sent to her from England. _"Probably Sweeney, telling me he's coming for me. Too bad he can't without his wallet."_

She emerged from the carriage in a long black dress, cinched at the waist and a bodice to highlight her full chest. She wore a bejeweled haircomb with a black veil thrown in front of her placid face, a gift from Jack. Some of the sailors swabbing the decks of their miniature fishing vessels wolf whistled at her as she passed by. She winked at them and flashed them a white smile.

"Marry me, gorgeous!" one shouted at her.

She waved at him. _"Only if he can afford me, which he can't," _she thought.

Her bejeweled heels clicked on the wood planks of the pier. An officer was stepping off the ramp of the mid-size cargo ship. He had a curly mustache that complimented his blue eyes. Vixie shot him a seductive look as she waved him over.

"Officer," she greeted him. "Not great weather for sailing today, no?"

"Not at all, Miss," he said. His Cockney accent brought memories of London back to Vixie, but she stubbornly pushed them out of her mind. "Not great weather at all."

He offered his arm to her, which she took. "I take it you're Miss Vixie Jeanine White, Miss?"

"I am."

They walked to the end of the pier. Vixie saw the sun steadily rising over the heavy fog and smiled.

"I'm supposing you know where this is from?" asked the officer.

Vixie shrugged. "I figure it could be from a barber I had an acquaintance with in London. The poor fool was obsessed with me. I had no choice but to leave the city- the country, I mean. For my own safety."

The officer looked surprised. "Oh, well then..."

She touched his arm tenderly. "Is something wrong?" she asked, pouting her dark lips at him.

He inhaled, trying to steady himself. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss, but there was an accident."

"An accident?" she breathed. "What kind of accident?"

The officer looked saddened before he even said anything. "A certain Officer Harding, a bobbie in London...he wrote this for you," he said, handing the letter to her. She took it gingerly, but never let her gaze drop from his, not out of sensual persuasion, but out of nervousness and fear.

"He did?"

The officer nodded. "Harding was at the scene of the crime and...went through some personal belongings...found a will...." He trailed off miserably. "I think it'd be better for you just to read it, Miss." He gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she dropped her focus down to the letter in her quivering hand, unsure of what to think. "I'll be unloading some things off the ship if you need....if you want someone to....if you need me, Miss."

She didn't look at him, so he turned and walked back down the pier. "Thank you," she whispered, barely audible. With her hands shaking, she used a long, polished fingernail to tear open the delicate envelope. Tears of panic were already streaming down her face, black with kohl against her ever-pale complexion.

_Addressed to Miss Vixie J. White:_

_It is my duty to inform you, Miss Vixie, that your fiancé, Mr. Sweeney Todd, or another alias he was using at the current time, was found dead in the cellar of a local pie shop on Fleet Street._

Vixie chocked a wretched sob and covered her mouth with her hand. She was shaking and crying now more than ever. She bit her glove, tasting the leather in her mouth. The hand holding the letter fell to her side, then onto the vertical plank holding up the pier to support herself. Trembling, she brought the letter before her eyes again.

_He was murdered by a young servant boy, known only as Tobias._

"Toby," she whispered into her hand. There was no way to believe it, to comprehend it, to even fathom how it had happened. It was like someone was speaking a language she couldn't understand. Denial swept over her senses.

_He has since been taken into custody._

_In this envelope, I have enclosed a round-trip ticket from Paris to London and back on a steamboat. Mr. Todd left you with all of his current possessions, as stated in his will, which I located soon after the crime was committed. If you would like to claim these items and move them to your permanent home in France, I would be obliged to assist you in moving them onto the next available ship. _

_My condolences,_

_Officer Richard Harding_

Vixie was dumbstruck. The breeze picked up and swept the letter out of her hand, preventing another read-through, just to make sure it was true. She followed it with her wet, somber eyes as it his the calm ocean. The black ink on the creamy parchment ran and became indecipherable. It looked like her eyes whenever she wept, like she was at this moment. Like black blood dripping down a wax candle.

"He was never supposed to get killed," she whispered. She was unaware if she had actually said it out loud or if it was just a powerful thought. "He wasn't supposed to die."

The envelope still lay at her feet, fluttering, threatening to blow away with its letter. Vixie stooped down to pick it up. There it was, the red and white ticket from Paris to London and back, just like Harding had said. She stared at it, long and hard, and burst into sobs, both sorrowful and infuriated. With all her might, Vixie crushed the ticket and envelope in her hand and flung it into the sea. Watching it sink, she screamed in despair. Her shrill cry was carried over the water.

Even though she didn't turn around to see, the sailors who were off the cargo ship unloading all took off their caps and placed them over their hearts. She grasped the plank again and sank to the floor of the pier. Her body was trembling still, but the tears fell more slowly. The colour vanished from her face. Her breaths became even. And her face was dry again. The wind was whipping at her veil. In somber disgust, she pried the haircomb from her scalp and tossed it all over the side, not caring which part of the ocean it would end up in. Her hair fell out of its high twist and fell in curls around her face. The faint breeze brushed them across her face, covering her darkened eyes like a veil of its own.

She had spent such a while weeping that she didn't notice that the cargo ship, and the kind-hearted sailors on it, along with the gentleman officer, had left, taking a route out of her sight. The fog finally parted and the sun shone through, hitting Vixie's face like it never had before. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to feel the warm glow, letting one last tear fall for her beloved Sweeney Todd.

**The End**

**a/n- Wow! I can't believe it's done! That took a while...:) So yeah, congratulations to everyone who guessed that Vixie was a whore. She was! But she really did love Sweeney and felt wicked responsible for his death, and that my readers, is why she was A Tragic Vixen. So yeah, thanks for reading! Reviews are really appreciated and thanks for those who stuck with it all this time.**

**See you next fanfic!**

**~FlynnStorie**


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